


Caught in the Act

by AcidGreenFlames



Series: Prompts 2013 [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Rating: NC17, Shameless Smut, Smut, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swindle and Smokescreen try to have some privacy for intimacy. They are interrupted by the worse people...but whose really interrupting who?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught in the Act

**Author's Note:**

> Another Ficlet! Yay! :D Thank you to Dellessa for this prompt :D (Although this one took a huge turn in a different direction then I thought it would xD)  
> This follows When The War Is Over  
> Unbete’d. Grammar abuse ahead.  
> Prompt: Smokescreen/Swindle-Caught in the Act  
> Disclaimer: Own it? I do not. D:

Swindle gasped as he was pressed into the dirty wall of the dingy abandoned building they had commandeered as their space. The massive building was low to the ground, flat and grey; an old military building the humans had abandoned years ago.

With his lover’s mouth on his throat, blue servos digging under tan platting in a desperate bid to touch, it made the Combaticon’s knees weak. Bright purple optics flared as a gentle servo winded down his outer thigh, slowly creeping across the tan plane to caress his interface panel.

His vents hitched and his voice stuttered as his lovers engine rumbled against him. “S-Smokey!”

Smokescreen chuckled against Swindle’s shoulder, nipping at the thick, living armour that protected Swindle’s protoform. Pressing into the light touches between his legs and the hard nips at his shoulder, the jeep let the waves of pleasure wash over him.

It all happened so fast, suddenly Swindle had his legs wrapped tightly around Smokescreen’s waist as the Autobot rocked into him, a hard, fast, brutal pace that had the jeep crying out the race cars name. His muffled cries stifled as Swindle buried his helm into the Autobot’s shoulder.

Smokescreen’s blue servo squeezed at his aft as he held Swindle up, his other servo pressed into the wall as he roughly took the Combaticon. The pleasure burned through the Combaticon, blooming hot through his belly and tingled through every joint.

Smokescreen’s pace picked up, almost desperate as his hips fired liked a piston, a desperate mission to coax his lover into over load before he allowed himself to succumb to the same erotic pleasure.

A laugh, deep and rich knocked the lust directly out of them both; it had Smokescreen frozen, his spike trapped deep in Swindle’s warm, wet channel and it caused the jeep to whimper as his lover stopped moving.

“Did you hear that?” Smokescreen asked, his tone had lost its lustful edge, fear creeping in.

Swindle whimpered again, nuzzling into the Autobot’s throat. “Don’t stop.” He whispered, his tone a near beg.

Smokescreen frowned as he gently set Swindle to the floor, his spike sliding from his clenching, rolling valve with such gentleness it had the Decepticon whimpering in need. “We should go check it out.”

“Now?” Swindle whimpered again, leaning against the wall in an effort not to fall.  

Tucking away his spike, Smokescreen nodded. “We should be sure we’re alone here.” His helm tipped back to the writhing Decepticon, blue optics softening at the sight. A servo reached out to gently stroke the others cheek. “It’ll be alright, I won’t leave you like this for long. But we’ve just got to be s-“

The words died on Smokescreens lips as the only door to the room burst open and two massive bodies rushed through the door. The Autobot gasped, jumping back to plaster Swindle to the wall, standing protectively in front of him; it would have been cute, Swindle though, had he not been trembling in need.

It was with a flash of gold paint and a flick of rotors, did the two new comers come stumbling into the room, and all Swindle and Smokescreen could do was watch in a stunned sort of stupor.

Sunstreaker backed Vortex in to the room, servos clamped hard onto thick shoulder guards as he slammed the interrogator into the first flat surface hard enough to rattle the walls. Vortex gasped, chest arching into the thick breast plate of the Autobot.

In a smooth, swift movement that had the other two dizzy, the frontliner grasped the Decepticon’s wrists, jerking them upwards and slammed them high above his helm, cuffing them to a thick lead pipe overhead. It left Vortex’s tall, lean body stretched out and open, forced him to stand on his toe plates; opening all the gaps and transformation seams of his armour.

Vortex snarled as he struggled, the pipe held firm as he trashed. Grinning darkly, Sunstreaker chuckled, pressing a servo on either side of Vortex’s helm as he leaned in, his EM flaring roughly over the Decepticon’s frame.

A strangled gasp left the Decepticon as he arched into the warm body that surrounded him, his hips shooting forward to scrap along the jet black hips. Snarling, Sunstreaker grasped the grey, boxy hips and pinned them to the dingy wall at Vortex’s back.

“I’ve got you.” He snarled as his face dipped closer to Vortex’s masked one. “Your mine.” He hissed.

“Fuck you.” The Decepticon snarled back, his struggling beginning a new.

Sunstreaker chuckled. “That’s what I plan on doing to you. Now _open._ ”

Vortex’s whole frame shuddered and another snarl broke from his chest as his engine revved. “Make me.” Vortex hissed back.

An ugly look cut across Sunstreaker’s face and he slammed the ‘copter harder into the wall, one servo pinning him by his throat, the other wandering between his thighs. “Must we always play this game out every time you want to be fragged?”

Vortex arched into the touch, pressing harder into the Autobot’s servo at his throat. “Yes.” He whispered, engine revving hard in excitement.

The smirk crawled across Sunstreaker’s face as claws only used for battle were unsheathed, running almost delicately along a transformation seam along the trembling grey thigh. The black servo released Vortex’s throat, trailing up to his mask and visor.

Claws drummed against the red crystal. “Remove it, or I’ll break it.”

Heaving a sigh, the battle mask slid apart at the invisible seam at the center, parting to reveal the smirking mouth, denta bared. The visor released with a gentle click, falling into Sunstreaker’s waiting servo. “Onslaught ordered me to stop breaking the damn things every time we got a little rough.”

Sunstreaker snorted, subspaceing the visor, as he dipped his helm towards the smirking mouth. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” Before the golden mech’s lips covered the scared grey ones beneath.

Crimson optics dimming in pleasure as he fought for dominance; Sunstreaker snarled and pinned him harder to the wall as he bit and suckled at the others thin lips. Growling, Sunstreaker released a burst of spark energy that filled the room, causing even Swindle and Smokescreen to shiver; it had Vortex going nearly limp, gasping into the dominating kiss.

Not one to waste an opportunity, Sunstreaker plunged his wet glossa into the interrogators moist mouth, tasting the other as his clawed servos went back to fondling his thighs.

“I said open.” Sunstreaker ordered against soft lips, his own lips just brushing the interrogators.

Vortex moaned into the kiss as Sunstreaker pressed back in for another, biting hard enough to draw energon from the others lower lip. Yet, the Decepticon’s interface panel remained closed.   

Chuckling darkly, Sunstreaker sent another burst of spark energy directly into the others chest, claws scraping along the hot metal the protected Vortex’s array; a reedy whimper slipped past the copter’s busy lips, the noise muffled by Sunstreaker’s mouth on his own.

The finned helm tipped, mouth moving quickly along the interrogators jaw to suck at the tubing of Vortex’s throat, glossa lapping at the others wiring.

“More!” Vortex hissed, hips arching into Sunstreaker’s.

Sunstreaker laughed against the others neck, his engine revving hard against the grey chest. “Then open.” The gold mech snarled.

Vortex made a weak noise and the sound of gears and panels shifting filled the air. The Decepticon’s hot, damp array met the cool air, his iridescent spike unfolding from its housing, a gush of fluid from his valve.

Sunstreaker wasted no time; the backs of his digits brushed the interrogators hard spike before two lethal digits sunk inside the warm, wet valve. Vortex gasped at the sudden intrusion to his frame, hips thrusting forward, sinking them deeper into his frame.

Chuckling as Vortex’s valve rolled around his clawed digits, trying to draw them in deeper, rippling around them in need. Sunstreaker laughed softly as his lips attacked to the main energon line in Vortex’s throat, nipping hard and suckling softly.

Spark energy filled the room as Sunstreaker hammered it into the copter in time with his thrusting digits; Vortex’s helm fell back with a _thunk_ as he moaned Sunstreaker’s name, a mix of ‘don’t stop’, ‘Primus have mercy’ and a whine of ‘Sunnnny!’ babbled from Vortex as his frame began to gather charge, heat pouring off of him.

The sound of more gears shifting plates filled the room, and Swindle silently balked as Vortex’s chest plates split apart, only partially, to reveal his black and gold spark. The ball of energy flickered and pulsed, desperate to feel the spark energy that Sunstreaker threw off.

The Autobot chuckled, knowing the sign of trust for what it was, and concentrated his own energy directly to the gap in Vortex’s armour, the direct energy caused Vortex to cry out, his whole body arcing into the energy field.

Sunstreaker chuckled as more incoherent babble burst past the interrogators lips, his static laced voice breaking as he whimpered.

Swindle could do nothing, say nothing; he had never seen Vortex so relaxed, so open with anyone else before. He certainly wasn’t with them, and never, ever with him. There was a sudden flash of jealousy that rushed the jeep; they were gestalt mates, the bloody Autobot should never have gotten to see Vortex like this.

His engine suddenly revved hard, the noise lost over the noises Sunstreaker and Vortex made as the gold mech brought Vortex a hot, tingling pleasure, made him cry out with abandonment. For whatever the reason, and it likely was the revving of Swindle’s engine, Vortex’s helm lulled, crimson optics dim with pleasure, caught sight of Swindle and Smokescreen.

Vortex gasped as he tensed, frame freezing even as Sunstreaker sent another bolt of spark energy directly into the Decepticon’s spark. The interrogators claws flared wide with aggression, trapped and helpless above him, crimson optics narrowing angrily and he snarled.

His struggling began anew and hate suddenly flared through his optics. 

“Sun-“ his vents hitched at the Autobot’s attention. “Sunstreaker stop!”

The Autobot laughed, a third digit added to the first two. “Make me.” He husked playfully.

Vortex’s face scrunched up in hate as he glared at what he would see as interlopers in his territory, fighting the need to grind down onto the frontliners digits. “Sunstreaker!” static laced Vortex’s voice as another bolt of spark energy pierced his own. “Sunny! Butterscotch!”  

Everything suddenly stopped, Sunstreaker’s servos left the interrogator’s frame with such a gentleness and ease, it against made Swindle jealous; Vortex never allowed the jeep to touch him like that!

The cuffs were gone the next instant, his chest plates were slamming shut and his interface panel snapped shut so quickly the interrogator winced. Sunstreaker took a slight step away, his servos brushing over the others plating, almost a worried caress as the Autobot looked him over, optics bright and anxious.

“What was wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it your wrists? I assured the cuffs would have been gentle on your wrists.” Sunstreaker sounded almost frantic, and any other time Vortex would have thought it was cute, had Swindle and his Autobot were not there. He would have mocked his Autobot about it; but right now this was not funny.

“I’m fine.” Vortex ground out, his sharp optics narrowed on Swindle, his hate blazing at his gestalt mate.

Confused, Sunstreaker looked up. “What is it…then?”

The gold Autobot blinked at the interrogator, and he half turned, following Vortex’s line of site, turning fully around, spotting Swindle and Smokescreen staring back at them.

There was no mortification, no embarrassment at being seen giving pleasure to another; only a confusion followed by a blinding rage. The frontliner’s armour suddenly puffed up in aggression, his lips pulled back in a snarl, claws flared wide in a preparation for attack; Sunstreaker positioned himself so that he stood protectively in front of Vortex, should either of them decide to attack.   

“The fuck are you doing here Smokescreen?” Sunstreaker snarled, Vortex sidestepping his gold lover, coming to stand beside him. The grey armour splayed wide, crimson optics narrowed.

Smokescreen quickly straightened himself, his EM reeled in tightly. He needed to be calm, someone had to be calm. Taking a deep vent, Smokescreen took a step forward, servos raising in surrender. “Looks like the same as you Sunstreaker.” The easy grin spread across the Praxions face, the same grin he had when he knew he had gotten dirt on a fellow Autobot. “Just want some alone time with my Decepticon.” Blue optics flickered to Vortex, the grin becoming predatory.

Sunstreaker knew a threat when he saw one, and he knew exactly what Smokescreen was threatening.

A blurr of gold shot forward, catching Smokescreen by his throat and slammed him against the same wall he was fragging Swindle against; his face nearing slowly, venting heavily over the race car. His lips brushed the other Autobot’s audio, a sneer in his tone. “I swear to fucking Primus _Smokey_ if you do or say anything that endangers Vortex or I, I will end you.”

Smokescreen struggled against the others powerful grip, his servos clamping tightly around the thick wrist of his comrade. “I won’t.” he tried weakly.

“No.” Sunstreaker hissed as he squeezed harder. “You won’t. Because if anything happens to Vortex, or if Optimus suddenly finds out about us, it will be your spark I come for. Understand?”

Smokescreen nodded, fear creeping into his EM; behind them the two Decepticon’s stared each other down. Swindle’s purple optics full of the green envy and Vortex with murderous hate.

Tension in the room raised to a breaking point, and Smokescreen shivered at the prospect of setting off the Decepticon’s mad interrogator and the Autobot’s loose cannon; a dangerous pair if Smokescreen had ever seen one.

“Sunny wait.” Smokescreen tried as the pressure increased again. “Calm down.”

Leaning in closer, Sunstreaker hissed. “I am calm.”

The Praxian shivered; he knew that tone well. That was the tone Sunstreaker used just before he lost it and mangled a minibot or two.

The door at their backs opened again, and Smokescreen was praying that it would be Sideswipe’s voice calling to sooth his enraged twin; but when a heavy engine revved and a deep voice spat “ _Swindle!_ ” the Praxian knew he was a goner.

Sunstreaker’s grip tightened and Smokescreen gasped at the sudden lack of oxygen to his engine, side vents flashing open in a desperate bit to compensate. Behind the golden Autobot, Onslaught’s hulking frame stood in the narrowed door way, engine an angry snarl as he glared openly at Swindle.

The jeep was having none of it; hurt over Vortex’s lack of attentiveness towards him, the fact his _gestalt mate_ had chosen to bare his bloody spark to a fragging Autobot. It wasn’t fair! He had been trying so much harder to get along with his team, and here they were fragging Autobrats!

Angry, Swindle jerked a digit towards Vortex. “Do you know about this!” He spat.

From behind his mask, Onslaught frowned and quirked an optical ridge. “I want to know why you’re here with _him_ Swindle.” The larger Combaticon sneered, fists tightening in rage.

“I’m not the one baring my spark to the enemy though!” Swindle shot back, engine revving; Sunstreaker felt a flicker of hurt from the comrade he pinned, but didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for it. It had taken him months to coax Vortex into doing this, to prove that Sunstreaker would not hurt him if they played with their sparks. _Months_ of soothing, proving, and working hard to gain the interrogators trust was suddenly washed away.

A flash of dismay rushed Sunstreaker suddenly; it was unlikely Vortex would want to try again, and the Autobot doubted he would ever let his guard down again. Not after being torn from the safe bubble they had tried to create.

Bloody Smokescreen.                                                                                                   

Suddenly shocked from his stunned stupor, rage hit the interrogator like a brick wall; the fact that Swindle had seen him bare his spark to another, had seen him vulnerable and begging to be fragged, enraged him, made him see red.

Closing the distance between himself and his gestalt mate, Onslaught letting him, Vortex grasped Swindle’s shoulders and slammed the jeep into the wall. Vortex’s rotors flared wide behind him, making him look so much larger then he was.

“You know what the _enemy_ didn’t do to me Swindle? _THEY DIDN’T RIP ME APART AND SELL ME TO HUMANS AND LOSE BRAWL’S PERSONALITY COMPONET!”_

Swindle flinched at his gestalt mate’s sneering tone and anger. “I told you I was sorry!” he tried weakly.

Vortex snarled, optics blazing like hell fire, mouth parted in an ugly snarl as he bared his denta at the jeep. “ _Sorry!_ You’re sorry! You think fragging sorry is going to-“ the interrogator cut himself off with an angry snarl, one that Onslaught echoed behind him.

Glancing over the copters shoulder, Swindle could feel the heat and rage pouring from Onslaught’s massive frame; the hate from his commander, the betrayal.

Fear shuddered down Swindle’s spinal struts; he was trapped in a room with three of the most dangerous mechs in either army, three who all had a history of snapping and doing a lot of damage very quickly. He was totally going to die.

Swindle squirmed. “Vortex, wait.”

His answer was another snarl and Vortex squeezed his shoulders tight enough to dent the metal.

“Okay Tex, that’s enough.” A new voice called from behind, and Swindle felt his knees buckle when Sideswipe wriggled his way around Onslaught’s massive frame, a black servo resting a moment too long on the commanders arm.

Swindle felt horror when he was Onslaught relax and push into that touch; his own anger resurfacing. “Are you kidding me! Sideswipe! You’re fragging Sideswipe!”

The crimson Autobot frowned at the tone as the other two Decepticon’s snarled in unison, not liking the tone in which the jeep sneered Sideswipe’s name.  

“Watch your mouth!” Onslaught sneered, moving to take a step to his subordinate.

He was stopped, surprising Swindle, by Sideswipe; a gentle black servo catching the same arm, gently putting pressure. “Easy Ons. Not now.”

The jeep couldn’t believe it was Onslaught backed down, if only a little at something as small as a touch.

Blue optics blazing, Sideswipe crossed the room, crimson arm sliding between Vortex and Swindle as the Autobot tried to put himself between them. “Let go Vortex, now is not the time.”

Vortex snarled, but never took his hateful gaze from Swindle and the con mech found himself looking away out of guilt.

“Come on Tex.” Sideswipe said smoothly, and with one last squeeze that left servo prints in his armour, Vortex released his gestalt mate.

The crimson Autobot quickly maneuvered himself between them, arm still up like a cross bar between the two Combaticons. Blazing optics narrowed on Swindle, the blue darkening to a near black in a checked rage. “You can work out your own issues with your gestalt on your own time Swindle. You’re on our time now, and you can piss right off.”    

The Autobot’s voice was hard and biting, cold in a way that reminded him of Onslaught. Optics still narrowed, Sideswipe began to back up, forcing Vortex to do the same, until they were across the room.

Once he was sure that Vortex wouldn’t to charging at Swindle again, Sideswipe left him, closing the distance between himself and his own twin. The black servo pressed softly to the small of Sunstreaker’s back as he pressed into the gold mech’s side; their optics flashing as they communicated over the twin bond.

Just as suddenly, and Smokescreen had no clue as to what Sideswipe had said to the Autobot’s manic, Sunstreaker released the Praxian with an angry huff, stomping to stand next to Vortex, arms crossed in an angry sulk.

Smokescreen was no fool; just because Sunstreaker was no longer threatening him did not mean he was out of danger yet. All the Praxian wanted to do was take Swindle and run, but with Sideswipe blocking his path, he knew that was unlikely.

Sideswipe’s reputation was just as tainted as Sunstreaker’s, and at least with the golden psychopath you knew what to expect; Sideswipe however was an enigma. The odds of him seeking revenge in a much more colorful, cruel way were much higher. If given the choice, Smokescreen would take a beating from Sunstreaker any day.     

“We all want the same thing here, right?” Sideswipe grinned at the door winger, his smile sharp, his optics blazing with anger; he did not like being interrupted either, and the frontliner’s field still buzzed with charge.

Smokescreen swallowed. “Right.”

Sideswipe nodded, his smile never losing its edge. “Right. No need for us to fight? Right?”

The Praxian nodded again, staying silent to allow Sideswipe to continue. “Because if anyone found out, we’d _all_ end up in the brig for misconduct for a very long time. And our Decepticon friends here will likely end up in the smelter. And no one wants that right?”

Against Smokescreen nodded. “And I would hate to have to explain to Prowl, why I killed you, if anything should happen to Onslaught or Vortex.” The grin was predatory, and the Praxian suddenly knew what real fear was. “Right?”

“Right.” He managed to say with a steady voice.   

“So,” Sideswipe shrugged. “We won’t be telling anyone what we all saw here then?”

“I won’t breathe a word.” Smokescreen whispered, and he meant it. He knew the twin’s protective streak was splashed with a vindictiveness that fitted a Decepticon.

Sideswipe’s grin didn’t meet his optics. “Good.”

Without another word, the crimson twin threw himself away from his comrade, his hips swaying as he walked away and back to the door he came from. He paused for a moment, smoldering optics blazing towards Onslaught, want and lust pooling in the blue orbs. “I’m going back to the hot pool we found. Coming Ons?”

Swindle made a face; the Autobot’s were allowed to use nicknames!

Sideswipe didn’t wait for Onslaught’s answer as he slipped around the door, flouncing off to the hot pool he spoke of.  

The Combaticon commander paused for only a moment, his voice tight and hard. “We’ll talk about this when we get back to HQ Swindle.” He didn’t wait for the response; his massive frame turned away and he stormed after his Autobot lover.

The four remaining mechs stood in awkward silence as they glared at each other. It was Smokescreen who broke the silence, clearing his intakes with an imitation of a cough. “Guess you two will want to find your own place to bunk down then?”

The two manic shared an unreadable look, a smirk spreading over Vortex’s unmasked face; before Swindle or Smokescreen could figure out what happened, they were shoved roughly out the door and into the damp corridor, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind them.

Purple met blue as they blinked at each other in surprise. “What just happened?” Swindle whispered, afraid to annoy the two that remained in the room.

Smokescreen stared into the purple orbs and sighed sadly. “Come on.”

Frowning, Swindle ran to catch up with him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Jerking his arm from the jeeps touch, the Praxians wings sunk low as he tipped his helm away. “You don’t want to be with me.” He whispered roughly, suddenly feeling the fool.

Swindle frowned. “But. I do.”

“You want to be with Vortex.” The voice was so brittle, Swindle feared Smokescreen would cry.

“Well yeah,” there was a hitch in the doorwingers systems. “But only because we’re a gestalt. I didn’t choose to be with them. I choose you.” Swindle said smoothly, knowing just what his little Praxian needed to hear.

Smokescreen’s helm popped back up, blue optics liquid as he stared back at him with uncertainty. Forcing a smile, drowning out the rest of his jealousy, Swindle linked his arm with Smokescreen. “Come on. Let’s go find a quiet corner we can commandeer.”

The smile became real when Smokescreen smiled back. ‘ _Screw Vortex.’_ Swindle thought to himself. He had what he wanted right here.

()()()

Standing before Vortex, Sunstreaker felt a sliver of unease worm its way into his processor.

Frowning, Sunstreaker tried to speak. “Vortex?” his voice was laced with static and worry, and he had to clear his intakes to try again. “Vortex, you alright?”

The interrogators optics were down turned and blank, giving no hint to what he was thinking.

The Autobot squirmed; had he been Sideswipe, he would have known exactly how too sooth his wounded pride. Vortex was not Sideswipe and Sunstreaker often found himself flailing when it came to dealing with matters outside of the berth.

Matters like the fact Swindle had betrayed his gestalt, had hurt them in a way Sunstreaker could not comprehend and yet still expected Vortex to favor him. It baffled the frontliner, and made him worry. He needed to get Vortex’s mind onto something else.

Closing the distance between them, Sunstreaker pressed a gentle servo to Vortex’s rotor hub, digits digging into the transformation seams that were along there. Vortex sighed, pressing into the touch as his optics dimmed.

“Come on, I’ll help you forget that idiot.” Sunstreaker whispered as he moved Vortex back to the wall, the Decepticon allowing him to.

“It’s hard to.” Vortex whispered back, anger still beneath the surface. “He’s such a fragging aft. It’s hard to not remember that.”

Pressing a kiss to the scared lips, Sunstreaker chuckled darkly. “Then I’ll have to try harder.”

He then sunk to his knees, his glossa licking along the interrogators still burning interface panel, leaving a hot, wet strip up the middle. Vortex groaned, the first buzz of arousal rekindling in his field.

“That’s a good start.” Vortex murmured from above as his clawed digits roughly grasped a helm fin to pull Sunstreaker’s helm closer.

Sunstreaker chuckled again, allowing himself to be lead as he grip the others grey hips. Perhaps this whole ordeal was not for nothing, and he’d have Vortex crying out his name before the night was done.      

 

 


End file.
